


Literary Bent

by terma_archivist



Category: Once a Thief (TV)
Genre: Language, M/M, implied M/M romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-01
Updated: 2002-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26535616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terma_archivist/pseuds/terma_archivist
Summary: Vic and Mac are searching for just the right book at a small town Library book sale.
Relationships: Victor Mansfield/Mac Ramsey
Collections: TER/MA





	Literary Bent

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alicettlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [TER/MA](https://fanlore.org/wiki/TER/MA) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the TER/MA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/terma/profile).  
> from The Theban Band Zine

**Literary Bent  
by LeFey**

  
The sleek, black Mercedes limousine eased into the one remaining parking space next to the old, wood frame building. The land yacht stuck out a foot onto the blacktop of the side street as it parked on the short graveled strip that bordered the grass side yard. The legend on the front of the building read _Shelm Masonic Hall._ The square two-story structure's only adornment was four thick wooden columns that stretched from yard to roof. Despite the classical element, the hall with its cheap roof and peeling white shiplap siding did not presume to be called a Masonic _Temple_.

"Why are we here again?" Mac asked as he sprawled on the jump seat opposite the Director and Vic. His long legs were arched uncomfortably as he had tried to avoid bumping either of them while the car turned the corner off the small town's one main street, aptly named Main Street.

The Director rolled her eyes. "This is the last time I take children on a trip." She gave an exasperated sigh, but then answered. "Levine Katton, rogue CIA scientist, has created the perfect terrorist weapon."

"Oh yeah, yeah... right." Mac nodded an acknowledgement. "That Holy hand grenade thing."

"Nuclear hand grenade," the Director corrected, grinding her teeth.

Vic leaned forward and patted Mac on the knee. He squeezed his eyes nearly shut as he whispered, "Don't talk."

Mac moved his leg away and grumbled, "Sure, like you remember any of this from that crack of dawn briefing."

"I'll refresh your moth eaten memory," the Director continued as she gently pushed Vic back into his seat. "Levine Katton absconded with his plans for a very effective nuclear hand grenade. He intended to sell this dainty disaster to the highest bidder. He went underground here because the town is small, bordered by a vast, remote rural area, and has a growing population due to the local medium turned millionaire who peddles the teachings of an eons old warrior prophet... for a profit of course."

"So, a new face in town wouldn't draw any attention," Vic summarized and the Director answered with a confirming nod.

"What was the name of this berg, again?" Mac asked as he drew his small streamlined sunglasses from his suit jacket pocket and perched them on the end of his nose. It was all for effect, or for a chance to close his eyes behind them later when he lost interest, as the day was overcast and threatening more autumn rain.

"S - H - E - L - M," the Director enunciated each letter, aggravation raising her voice.

"Shelm? What the hell kind of a name is that?" Mac shot back, pushing the glasses up to cover his eyes.

"Nesquim Indian," Vic said quickly. "The story is that it's he word the native people called the shimmer of heat that rose off the prairie. It was in the case book," Vic offered when both the Director and Mac looked at him in amazement. "I read it on the plane on the way down here. Didn't anybody else?"

The Director mentally shook herself and pointed a finger at Mac. "You could learn from Victor."

"Yeah." Mac rocked back in his seat grinning. "How to be a nerd."

Vic launched a wadded up paper napkin left over from the fast food breakfast purchased near Boeing Field where the Agency jet had landed.

Mac batted it away, and then came back with a playful swing that Vic was ready to fend off.

"Cease!" The Director's voice rang through the car, freezing the two men. She straightened her mid-calf length black skirt over the tops of the leather boots that hugged her legs, and then took a deep breath as she stared at Mac. "When we get back, someone is going to get the Ritalin he's always needed."

"Busted, man," Mac said and pointed at Vic, then sputtered out a laugh at the prospect of what he thought would happen to Vic.

Vic shook his head.

"As I was saying," the Director continued. "Katton tried to hideout here, but some very diligent Agency operatives, unlike the one's I'm currently with," she rolled her eyes, "found him. He was persuaded," she looked away leaving the method unstated, "to tell us where he had hidden the only set of plans. He kept them in a book. Unfortunately, Dr. Katton was not a careful man, but philanthropic."

"I thought this place was for Masons," Mac said.

Vic leaned forward again, and patted Mac on the cheek this time. "It's a good thing you're pretty."

Mac pushed his hand away and frowned, "Not in front of..."

"Neither of you are going to be pretty much longer if you don't pay attention," the Director snapped. "Katton put the only set of plans on a micro dot, and placed it inside a book, a copy of _On the Beach_."

"Is the guy a surfer?" Mac asked with a shrug.

Vic raised his hand to stop the Director. "Trust me. It's really not worth it. Go on."

The Director gave a tight, angry jerk of her head and continued. "Our people searched the, ah, double-wide," the word dripped with distaste, "he was living in and the book was not there. After more persuasion Katton remembered that he had donated several boxes of books to the local library sale. As I said he wasn't a careful man, but he's certain that the book went to the sale." She motioned towards the large white plastic banners tied to rebar stakes that adorned either side of the small yard in front of the building. A practiced hand had lettered the white plastic to read _Friends of the Shelm Library Book Sale, 9am to 4 pm._

"So we got up," Mac looked at his watch, "yesterday, crossed the continent, through two countries and five time zones..."

"Four," Vic corrected.

Mac frowned at the interruption. "Four time zones so we can go to a lame book sale?"

"And find the plans," Vic added.

It was the Director's turn to pat Mac's cheek. "And save the world from terrorism." She said the words like she was praising a pet dog.

Mac moved out of her touch and she settled back in her seat. He lowered his dark glasses, and looked through the black tinted windows of the limo towards the building where several people queued up along the concrete entryway waiting for the sale to start.

"There's a line." Mac stated the obvious. "I don't do lines. Owe!" He jerked his head back as the Director dug the lacquered nails of one hand into his knee.

"You do whatever I tell you to do." Mac jerked his leg aside and the Director leaned away. "You get access to those books before anyone else, and find the plans." The voice was the familiar demanding tone again.

Mac raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! We go book shopping." He rubbed his knee where the nails had bitten into the skin. "Maybe later we can visit a card shop and spend the afternoon at Starbucks?" Anger continued to build in Mac and he challenged, "Why are _we_ doing this? Why don't the Feds or some less than shadowy government agency just shut the place down and confiscate the books?" Mac sank back into the plush upholstery of his seat, a sulk turning down the corners of his ample lips.

The Director straightened. "There's no need to create a panic. The existence of a devise like this with such potential for terrorist use isn't something the public needs to know about." She paused and gave them both a long considered look. "We are also here because one of _our_ agents lost track of Katton in the first place."

"Who?" Vic asked

The Director waved off the question. "You didn't know him, and ... well... now he's... no longer _employed_ by us."

The two men exchanged a quick, wary look.

"I still don't understand why _you_ came with us?" Vic asked.

The Director hesitated for a moment. "This is our agency's mess and I'm going to clean it up." Then a small, nearly triumphant smile moved her lips. "Besides, when you find the plans I am going to personally deliver them to the U.S. Secretary of State." The Director steepled her fingers in front of her glossy red lips. "I've always found that there's something about that Colin Powell, in or out of uniform." She let the innuendo fall between them, and both men shifted uncomfortably.

Vic sent a desperate glance towards Mac whose eyes widened over the gold rims of his dark glasses. "I'm out 'a here," Vic said as he bailed out one side of the limousine while Mac fled through the other. 

"She gets weirder all the time," Mac said as they walked the few feet from the car to the short line of people waiting for the sale to start.

Vic turned up the collar of his red and black plaid jacket and shivered from more than just the cold. "She defines weird."

"The end of the line is back there," they were told politely as they neared the battered brown door at the building's entrance.

Mac flashed the generic badge he always carried. "Fire Marshall, folks. Not here to buy just to inspect."

"My Dad's the fire chief here...," said a tall, lanky teenager with braces.

Vic saw with a start that the kid would probably grow up to look very much like Mac. Lucky kid he thought.

"Were not local," Mac interrupted his younger self. "Were Provincial..."

"State," Vic whispered near his ear.

"State Inspectors. We don't want to keep you people waiting so we'll just inspect and be on our way." Mac had his hand on the cheap, round gold-tone doorknob. "A safe building is an inspected building." He smiled at the group and opened the door. "An inspected building is..." Vic pushed him through the door and closed it behind them. 

The interior of the building showed the same wear as the outside, from the scuffed hardwood floors to the patched and many times painted walls. Dim light from mid-century florescent fixtures gave the place a feeling of being abandoned in some other era. The anti-room had a tiny, ancient false fireplace on one wall, and an old but cheap upright piano on the other. Either side of the fireplace was lined with mission style furniture marred by the addition of 1960's fashion orange vinyl seats. Large folding tables bordered the room and were covered in books. Sets of encyclopedias with hand written price signs, _$5.00 a set_ , were nestled under the book-laden tables. Cardboard boxes stood by the door piled six high.

Ahead, a double doorway lead into a larger room filled with more long tables lined three-deep in books placed side by side with the spines showing. Open boxes spilling over with more books were tucked into every empty space under the many tables. Beyond this an archaic kitchen, with glass cabinetry trimmed in thick white paint, terminated the building.

A dark-haired woman looked up as Vic and Mac walked in. She was counting money over a gray metal cash box that sat on the table in front of her. As she stared at them Vic thought that her serious face could possibly rival the Director's for its intensity. A nametag decorated with cartoon fall leaves identified her as Karen.

"We're not open yet," the words came from an older woman with short white hair, and bright eyes who smiled as she walked towards them.

"Shoot, it's almost time," a male voice challenged, and made Vic turn to look behind him.

"No Ruben," both women protested, as well as another voice that came from the big room. 

A middle aged man stepped out from behind the pile of books by the door, hand dolly preceding him. He pushed back the baseball cap that was precariously perched over his thinning brown hair, and leaned on the dolly. "It's quarter to, and we got a line out there," he drawled with a faint rural accent. "We might as well let them in."

"No," everyone including Vic and Mac said at once.

A short woman with long copper penny red hair appeared in the doorway, a stack of books resting in her arms. "The article in the paper says we open at nine." She continued in motion, placing the books in her arms on different tables in some preordained order that only she seemed to know.

"Candy is right." The older woman, whose nametag read Sarah, agreed. "It wouldn't be fair to start early." She nodded her head as if the conversation was finished.

"We decided in the prep meeting," Karen stated with a tone of having had this conversation many times, "that we would only open at nine."

"Fine," Ruben said and pushed his thick rimmed glasses up his nose, then raised his hands in surrender. "I'm just the gopher." He wheeled the hand dolly around and slipped it under a stack of boxes.

Suddenly everyone was talking at once, trying to provide proof of how important it was to keep to a schedule, while Ruben now argued that it didn't really matter to him if they opened early. Vic had the feeling of being caught in a whirlwind. Mac, however, seemed right at home. His most charming smile appeared. His voice, while not louder than the others, cut miraculously through the many conversations.

"Excuse me." They all turned to look at him. "We'll only be a minute. We donated a book that we need back. If you'll just give it to us well get out of your hair."

A bemused laugh rumbled through the women and Ruben. Karen smiled, and like the Director, it wasn't comforting. "We've had this happen before," she said. "You have to understand that these books come from many sources, and are donated at a lot of different location. We can't just say oh yeah, here's your book back."

Sarah nodded, and then added, "You're certainly welcome to look for your book. When we open." 

"Maybe if we told you the name," Vic asked, "you might remember seeing it?"

"You can try," Sarah told him in a tone that said it would do little good.

"It's _On the Beach_ by Neville Shute."

"How do you know who wrote it?" Mac popped off.

"I read. Okay?" Vic waved a hand for Mac to be quiet.

"Candy?" Karen called. The copper haired woman popped up from beside a table in the big room holding another armload of books. "Have you seen a copy of _On the Beach?"_

"No, but there is a paperback of _Most Secret_ by Shute."

"We've got a video of _Beach Blanket Bingo_ ," Ruben snagged the videocassette off the table beside him, and offered it to Vic. Despite the fact that Vic raised his hands to fend off the movie the man stepped closer. "I'll tell you what I'll do."

Vic took a step back. He felt like he was an Eskimo that was about to be sold a refrigerator.

Ruben closed the space again, and straightened his permanently crooked glasses. "See those boxes of books over there?" He pointed at the stacks by the door. "If you don't find your book I'll sell you those boxes for three dollars a box, two for five dollars, and I'll take 'em to your car."

He moved again, but Vic's retreat was stopped as he stepped against Mac. He glared at Mac for a split second, and then smiled back at the man waiting for an answer. "No thanks we're just interested in the one book."

"Ruben!" Karen stepped towards them, her hands held out in a gesture of helpless frustration. "We're not open yet."

From the look on her face Vic was certain that this guy irritated her the way Mac did the Director. It was like a confirmation when Mac's arm snaked around Vic's side, and his hand extended to Ruben. He was smiling broadly. "You're quite the salesman," Mac said with admiration ringing in his tone.

Ruben laughed, and then took Mac's hand in a crushing handshake. "I'm just the gopher," he said as their hands parted. An embarrassed smile remained on his face at the unexpected compliment. 

Vic cleared his throat as he gently forced Mac back a few steps. "Maybe we could just have a look?" Vic turned towards the room where the majority of books were staged.

"Yeah," Mac agreed just a step behind him. "Maybe we could take a quick look in S or B or O. Jeeze!" He stopped in his tracks, and bent over a cardboard box propped against a table leg. He snagged a handful of comic books, and flipped quickly through the stack checking the glossy covers. "I used to have a ton of these when I was a kid." He showed the vividly colored graphics on the front to Vic when he turned back to face him. "Look, _UltraWarrior._ These must be worth a fortune."

Ruben stepped next to Mac. "You can have those if you want. They're in the free box."

"Yeah, worth a fortune," Vic groused. He pulled Mac towards him by the lapel of his charcoal gray suit jacket. "Will you focus, please?" he said with little of the frustration he felt.

Mac swung his head around one more time to catch Karen's eye. "Can I really have these?"

Karen looked at Ruben. "Sure," she told Mac in a resigned tone. "Why not?" She shrugged, and then let out a weary sigh.

When they turned Sarah was blocking their path. 

"If we can just see where the Neville Shute books are..." Vic started.

"The books aren't set out that way," she explained. "We have them by genre."

"What's that?" Mac grinned. "Like the Dew point decimal system?"

Vic looked around self-consciously. Karen was trying not to smile. "He's so pretty," she said to no one in particular. Mac answered the comment with an appreciative wink that made the woman cover her mouth with an open hand to hide the laugh that she could barely contain.

Sarah smiled and patted Mac on the arm. "You're very funny."

"It's the type of book," Vic grumbled. Then he looked into the room filled with books, really looked at it for the first time, and realized what they were up against. They stood on the shore of a sea, a veritable ocean of books. The only landmarks to guide them were colorful signs clipped atop wooden dowels that designated whole rows of tables as fiction, non-fiction or children's.

"So it's a pretty safe bet that it's on one of those two rows of fiction tables?" Vic asked.

"Unless the kids put it in the wrong place," Candy told them. She was still busily pulling select books from one table and putting them in other places. 

"We have a middle school leadership class that helps us set up each sale," Sarah explained. "Sometimes, they don't really understand what the titles mean." She laughed again as she had at Mac.

"The best one was when they had _The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty_ in the children's books," Karen added.

"Sleeping Beauty?" Mac wrinkled his brow. "That _is_ a kid's book."

"That's what they thought," Karen confirmed. Then the corners of her mouth twitched. "I guess that's what you think too."

Vic turned and took Mac's arm. "I told you, don't talk," he hissed as he led him towards the door.

"What about them boxes," Ruben asked as they walked away. "I'll make you a deal."

"We'll be right back," Vic threw over his shoulder as he opened the door, and pushed Mac ahead of him.

"What are you doing?" Mac rolled his arm out of Vic's grasp.

"We need to talk to the Director." They were back at the limo in a few steps. Vic opened the car door.

The Director sat as she had when they left. Only now there was a champagne flute in her hand, and an ice bucket at her feet. Dobrinsky sat beside her, champagne bottle in hand, white linen towel over the cork ready to pop it.

Vic stepped into the car, taking the seat across from the Director. He pulled down the seat next to him. Mac closed the door as he sat beside Vic.

The Director nearly smiled. "You found the book already. Good."

"Not exactly," Vic told her, and she put her hand over Dobrinsky's before he could uncork the bottle.

"I got some really cool comics though," Mac interrupted. "They just gave them to me."

"Those look valuable," Dobrinsky traced a finger over the title.

Mac nudged Vic. "I told you."

"Yeah, Sport," he smiled at Mac. "What's the price of recycling paper now, two or three cents a ton?"

The Director raised her hand, and the car fell silent.

"No book?" she asked.

Vic shook his head.

"Then why are you here?" It wasn't a friendly inquiry.

"They have thousands of books in there in no particular order." Vic shrugged at the hopelessness of it all. "People are already lined up. There's a guy in there that's ready to sell boxes of books that haven't even been opened. If that sale starts there's no guarantee that we'll ever find our little needle in that big freaking haystack."

The Director straightened. "Victor you have forgotten the primary rule of every operation. I never lose." She waved her hand. "Everyone out of the car. One more thing." She stopped them as their hands settled on the door handles. "If I find that book first you're going to regret it."

"Oh, unlike now, huh?" Mac asked as he opened the limousine door.

The negotiations didn't take long, but longer than Vic had anticipated. There was an eerie moment when the Director and Sarah faced off, each smiling, neither of them meaning it, and neither one willing to back down. Karen and Sarah were suspicious of the offer the Director made, and the cash she pulled out of her purse like a magician drawing scarves out of a hat. Crisp thousand dollar bills were counted out. Then everything stopped while the money was checked at a local bank for authenticity and deposited at the same time. The final cost was six thousand dollars and disposal of all the books. Dobrinsky was sent off to arrange for manpower and trucks to take the contents of the sale to several charities. Mac did the dirty work of notifying the people waiting outside that the sale had been canceled, while Ruben took down the signs. A makeshift sign on the door wasn't enough to keep people from knocking, and trying to gain access to the annual sale. After the first few, Ruben took up the gauntlet of fending off would-be customers. Vic and Mac had other things to do. 

The two men sat on the floor surrounded by boxes of books. Everyone, including the Director and Dobrinsky had already checked all the books lining the tables and the one they sought hadn't been found. Now, Vic and Mac rifled through unopened boxes still on the hunt. Ruben was gone, off to empty two storage units the group had, and bring back even more boxes of books that they hadn't had room for at this sale

Vic had shed his coat over two hours ago, and was clad in denim shirt and jeans. Mac's charcoal gray suit coat was draped over the back of a chair, and he had rolled up the sleeves of his royal blue silk dress shirt. The two of them sat cross-legged facing each other as Vic opened yet another box. He pulled out a pristine hard-copy edition of _The Shipping News_.

"Did you see the prices they're charging for these books? This is just fifty cents."

"But that's American money." Mac countered, not looking up.

"Christ, I paid over thirty dollars for this when it first came out."

"I waited for the movie," Mac gave him a self-satisfied grin. 

"And you're proud of that?" 

Mac waved a hand towards the two boxes that Vic had gathered while they searched for the book. "I don't know why you're keeping all those? You're apartment is full of books already."

"And I've read them all," Vic answered, as if the statement had been an accusation.

Mac rocked back and widened his eyes. "I don't know where you find the time. Oh wait! Yes I do. You don't have a life."

"I have a life," Vic said and tossed the book back in the box with a thump. "One that you're not interested in unless your dick is involved."

Mac raised his hands. "Sweetie, chill out. What did I do, leave you alone with the kids too much, not say you look pretty often enough, never bring home roses?"

"Mac!"

"I'm just asking."

"You're just being a pain in the ass. Will you stop being so... so... _Mac_ for awhile? I want to get the hell out of this place sometime this century." Vic put a copy of _Hunting with Hemmingway_ in the box he was keeping, and then looked at Mac. "Is that okay with you?"

"Like I don't want to get out of here? My suit needs cleaned because of this dusty damn floor, my manicure is trashed from pulling books out of boxes. The way I figure it the Director owes us. You feel that way too don't you?" he asked when Vic didn't respond.

"Mac, please," Vic said in a weary voice, "just get back to work."

"I saw a nice motel when we drove into town." He shrugged. "Well as nice can be expected in a berg like this."

Vic didn't say anything, but pulled another box of books between them.

"See the thing is..." Mac leaned close.

"Oh god, now there's a _thing_."

"The way I figure it the Director is going to want to blow this place the minute she gets her hands on that book. She'll be anxious to get on with the Colin Powell thing."

The two men looked at each other for a beat and then shivered. "Somebody really should warn him," Mac said.

"Come on," Vic protested. "The man is a decorated military general. He was head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He led armies in war, and now he's the US Secretary of State." He blinked. "You're right someone needs to warn him about her."

"You know anyone?"

Vic thought for a moment, but then shook his head. "Nah."

"So here's the thing," Mac continued as if they had never been discussing the Director and the Secretary of State. "She'll probably take the limo and Doby, then strand us here. That means we could get a suite with a fireplace..."

"The motel didn't look _that_ nice," Vic interrupted.

"Okay, okay a nice room. Jeeze, work with me here. Will you accept a nice room?"

Vic shrugged, but then nodded.

"We get a nice room, champagne of course, and then the two of us find ourselves in some compromising positions."

Vic pursed his lips before he let a heavy sigh escape. "More than likely she'll keep us here until midnight, and then make us catch a red-eye back."

"Okay I see where you're going. This could be good too. You and me in two first class seats, free champagne, a couple of blankets. We pretend we're asleep, and we're just a grope away from joining the mile high club."

Vic squeezed his eyes shut for a second as heat rushed up his face. "Mac, I really need you to concentrate on what we're doing. I've about reached my limit here."

Mac gave a serious look as if he understood, and nodded his agreement. He pulled a book out of the box that sat between them.

"What was the name of that book again?"

" _On the Beach_!" Vic snapped. "I thought you were going to write it on your hand so you wouldn't forget, again?"

"I was going to," Mac acknowledged.

"And you didn't because?"

Mac shrugged. "I don't have a pen."

"No pen?"

A flash of disbelief shot across Mac's face. "You don't think I'd actually carry a pen and take a chance on it leaking in these clothes do you?"

"Everyone carries a pen!" Vic tossed a copy of _The Lost Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_ in a box he was keeping for himself. "They make things so nothing happens if they leak."

"Yeah right!" Mac snorted out a laugh, and shook his head. "I'm sure that I'm going to wear a Hugo Boss suit, and a Halston shirt with a plastic pocket protector. I'll leave that fashion statement for you geek boy." He pushed aside the box they'd finished, and placed another between them.

Vic grabbed Mac's hand, and pulled a pen from his shirt pocket. " _On_ ," he began to write across Mac's palm, " _the Beach_ , you fucking..."

"That tickles." Mac squirmed out of his grasp, but snagged Vic's hand bringing it to his lips. He playfully bit into the fleshy mound beneath Vic's thumb before he could be stopped.

"Don't." Vic jerked his hand away and then rubbed his palm across his shirt.

"You tease me..." Mac started.

"I wasn't teasing you," Vic growled. "I was trying to get you to remember the name of the damn book we're looking for, get your mind back on the job."

"What kind of job?" Mac grinned. "Hand job, blow job..."

"Great! Now you're bored." He picked up a lushly photographed coffee table book about Vancouver BC, and put it directly into his book.

"I don't have to be bored. There's an upstairs to this place. I noticed the stairs by the door. We hop a few boxes of books, and go... exploring." The word carried more than just the chance to discover what lay on the next floor. 

Vic shoved another box in front of them. "No thanks. I'd like to leave this assignment with all my body parts in tack."

"I'll be gentle," Mac said with a teasing smile.

"And that is not going to happen if the Director catches us anywhere but here."

"Nobody's going to miss us for a few minutes."

"A few minutes?" Vic straightened the books in the box so the spines could be read at a glance. "That sure sounds promising."

"Since when are you the blushing maiden who needs foreplay to get off?" Mac griped. Vic waved a hand at him to be quiet, but he didn't stop. "I remember a certain bang against the wall in an alley after our stake out last week. That didn't last long, but you didn't complain."

"You have absolutely no sense of propriety." Vic shook the book he still had in his hand at Mac.

"Propriety?" Mac snickered. "Jeeze, Vic don't get your petty coats in a knot."

"We don't have to advertise that we're together. We don't know how these people will react. This is a small town, and small town people usually have small minds."

"Hey pal, I'm not doing anything you didn't start. After all, you're the one that said I was pretty in front of the Director."

"That was a shot."

A look of confused hurt crossed Mac's face. "Thanks a lot."

"Well, you called me a nerd."

"You are a nerd."

"Either of you guys want these books?" Candy peered down from across the table next to them. She held out a copy of _Tales of the City_ , and a biography of Christopher Isherwood.

"What makes you think we'd want those books?" Vic asked defensively.

Candy didn't seem phased by his tone. "You're a couple aren't you?" she asked matter-of-factly.

" _One_ of us thinks so." A sarcastic smile spread across Mac's face as he looked at Vic.

Candy motioned towards the two boxes that Vic had set aside. "You might as well take as many as you want. You're friend bought them all."

"She's not our friend," they said almost in unison. "We work for her," Vic added with an embarrassed dip of his head. 

Candy held out the books once more.

"Thanks, but I've already read that." Vic pointed hesitantly at the Armistad Maupin book.

Candy nodded. "It's a classic." 

Again, her tone gave Vic the uncomfortable feeling that she was making too many assumptions about him.

She showed them one more book and Mac snatched it from her hand. "Oh, _Gladiator School?_ " He rolled his thumb over the edge of the book fanning the pages out. A lascivious smile moved his lips. "Now, this should prove to be a hard read." He shot a mischievous glance at Vic.

"He doesn't need this," Vic said as he plucked the book out of Mac's hands, and gave it back to Candy. "It doesn't have any pictures."

"Candy." Karen's voice called from the kitchen. "Will you come here for a minute?"

"I'll leave them out in case you change your mind. And if you want pictures, I think I saw a Mapplethorpe book in the front." Candy put the books on top of the many that lined the table, and turned away.

Mac picked up the Gladiator book, and opened it again. "Want me to read to you?"

"Stop it!" Vic made a grab for the book, but Mac pulled it out of reach. "You're really acting like a jerk now."

"What's that?" Mac leaned closer as if he couldn't hear Vic. "You want me to jerk you now?"

"You're a real comedian." Vic produced a false smile. "I want you to get back to work so we can eventually get out of here."

"This is wild!" Mac paged through the book. "Someone has used a highlighter on all the hot parts." He looked up at Vic, and Mac might as well have had a light bulb go off over his head. "This is a great idea. You highlight the good stuff, and then you don't have to read all the boring parts."

"You still have to read the boring parts in order to find the hot parts." Vic pulled the book out of Mac's hands, and tossed it in the box he was keeping. He opened the next box of books. "Now, can we get back to what we were doing?"

Mac started to pick out a book closest to him. "I never thought I'd say this about you Vic." He choked out a laugh as if he couldn't keep a straight face. "Actually, I've said this about you from the day we met. You're no fun."

Vic used a slim book he'd just picked up to emphasize his words. "Mac if you don't settle down and..."

"Versace!" Mac grabbed the book out of Vic's hand and began to look through it. "Man this is so cool." He studied each glossy color plate before he turned to the next page. "That Versace was a genius."

"Mac!" Vic's tone took on an irritated whine. "You have _got_ to focus or we are never going to get out of here."

"Focus on this, buddy." He spread the book out flat over the box of books. A two-page black and white photo of five beautiful models was revealed. They were all clad in skintight gleaming evening gowns, hair blowing in the breeze. Each woman was draped over, or standing on the buff naked bodies of five men. The male models were bent at the waist, sitting, laying on the floor, squatting and curled in a fetal position. They formed a lopsided V, with the one lying on the floor at the center showing only his back, the broad muscles sporting an elaborate circular henna tattoo between his shoulder blades. The man next to him was squatting, his back to the camera, his powerful legs were spread wide and receptive. The whole scene had the feeling of an erotic, classical, marble frieze come to life.

Vic's stared at the picture despite himself. Then through sheer force of will he closed the book in Mac's hands. "Not now." He tossed the book back into the box.

Mac fished it out immediately. "I want this."

"Then get an empty box."

"I only want this one. You put it in your box."

"What am I going to say when the Director asks why I want a book on some fashion designer? Go get your own box."

"Hey, very good. You know who was. Maybe there's hope for a fashion impaired guy like you after all." Mac wedged the book very deliberately between some others in one of the boxes that Vic was saving.

"Didn't I ask you not to do that?"

"No. Actually you _told_ me. We really need to work on your social skills so you can learn the difference. What's the deal, anyway?" Mac challenged. "You on the rag or something?"

Vic threw a thick paperback, and hit Mac in the chest. "Stop comparing me to a woman!"

"Stop acting like one!"

Mac prepared to throw the book back at him, but Vic wrestled it from his hands. He sat silently for a moment his eyes closed, and his knuckles white as he clutched the book against his chest. He struggled to gain control of his anger fueled breathing. After a moment he took a deep breath, and opened his eyes as he tossed the book aside. "Look, I'm just as," he glanced quickly around, " _bored_ as you are. That's why I want to get this over with as soon as we can." Vic waited for a response, but Mac was looking down. "Can't you pay attention for one fucking second?"

"Oh I am, Babe," Mac said without looking up. "I can see now that you are _majorly_ bored. How the hell did I miss that?" His hands slid up Vic's crossed legs.

Vic captured the roaming hands mid-thigh. "If you don't stop now I'm going to hurt you." Vic was nose to nose with Mac. The caress of the other man's breath was soft against his lips.

"You're only hurting yourself, man." Mac's eyes were hard and focused. His words came in that staccato patter that could wear down anyone. "Think about it. How long do you think it will be before we can get out of here, and do something about your," he glanced down at Vic's crotch, "problem?" "Two, maybe three hours? That's if everything goes perfectly, and we find the book in the first fifty or so boxes we have to go through. What if we don't find it and our old buddy Ruben remembers that there's another storage unit or two filled to the rafters? Let's add two more hours. We're up to four or five hours now. Then we're still empty-handed. That means, yes my thoroughly randy friend, we start over. You've been sporting wood for about six hours at that point. Want to go for eight? Want to go insane?"

Vic closed his hands on Mac's hard enough to make him wince. "If we get caught you are _so_ dead!" 

An eager grin spread across Mac's face. "Would I ever get us caught?" He pressed a quick kiss on Vic's lips before he could respond, and stood up pulling Vic after him. 

The women were in the small shabby kitchen at the rear of the building. They gathered around the homely island counter that was covered with the same dingy cream linoleum flecked with dabs of red and blue that graced the floor. A plastic tub filled with ice and champagne bottles rested on the small space between the deep, scratched porcelain sink and the old avocado colored range. Just because the kitchen was grubby didn't mean the appetites in Shelm were. The people who came to this town seeking spiritual enlightenment did so with a silver palate. As a result, the local grocery stores had an ample supply of gourmet items. Before Dobrinsky had gone off to arrange transportation he'd shopped for an afternoon feast. Spread out on the old countertop was smoked salmon, cold cuts, pate, a selection of cheeses, pickled vegetables, salty black and green olives, vine ripened tomatoes, a baguette and several types of crackers. Each woman was busily munching away from an individual paper plate filled with her favorites.

"Don't you think we should tell them you found the book?" Karen asked.

"I will," the Director replied, and held up a bottle of champagne. "More?" Candy offered her glass, and the Director refilled it.

"I'm going to take those fellows a plate of food," Sarah said, and picked up an empty paper plate.

The Director waved a hand to stop her. "Victor doesn't like this sort of food. He's a very picky eater. And Mac doesn't do well with champagne." The Director dropped a fresh strawberry in Sarah's glass. "You know twelve steps and all. I don't like to bring it up. The poor dear is sensitive, and he's trying so hard." She ended the words in a confidential whisper.

"Oh I see." That seemed to satisfy Sarah who put the slice of salmon she had picked up onto her own plate.

"So, you do this whole big sale all by yourselves?" the Director asked.

"We hire two boys from the alternative high school to help Ruben with the loading and unloading of the books," Sarah answered.

"I have two boys who help me with the heavy work as well," The Director mused.

"But your boys are much better than ours," Karen said with a sly smile.

"You think so?"

"Oh yes." Karen drew out the words.

Candy laughed. "Have to agree."

The Director took a step towards the door that lead into the main room. She motioned Karen to join her. Victor was almost through the archway and into the front room when she called.

"Victor."

He came up short and spun around. He pointed nervously behind him. "We were just." He glanced around. Mac had kept walking, and was nearly to the stairs where he couldn't be seen. "We... ah... we're going to check the boxes by the door."

"Victor, what is that red book? The one in the box behind you."

Victor turned around, and bent over.

There was a clink of crystal glasses. An approving purr colored Karen's tone as she said "Thank you."

Vic straightened, and held up the book. "It's _Writing the Erotic Novel_."

"That's not what we're looking for," the Director told him. "Go on Victor, continue."

Vic gave her a _you're crazy_ smile, and tossed the book onto an open box. He glanced around for Mac who was opening boxes by the door. He chanced one more wary look at the Director, and then turned to join him.

"Your boys are definitely better," Candy said as they all moved back towards the food platters. 

Dobrinsky opened the creaking back door, and walked in. "Hello, Ladies."

After everyone returned his greeting the Director asked, "Did all go well?"

"Excellent," he answered as he filled a plate with salmon, salami, slices of dill havarti and a handful of crackers. "One truck is about a half hour out. The other one stopped when we saw Ruben loading his pickup. We're handling that for him." 

"We'll leave when the truck arrives. Put Vic and Mac in-charge of the operation. They can stay in town, and catch a commercial flight home when all they're finished. Did you arrange a vehicle for the boys?"

"Yeah." Dobrinsky snickered, and then took a sip of champagne. "An electric blue Geo Metro."

The director raised her glass in a toast. "Perfect."

There was a sudden scrabbling sound from overhead and everyone looked at the ceiling.

"Mice?" Karen asked, wrinkling her nose as she listened.

"Bigger," Dobrinsky said around a mouthful of baguette and Brie. "I'm thinking rats."

"We once had a raccoon get in our attic," Candy offered still looking at the ceiling, as was everyone else.

"Not to worry," the Director said while she lifted the bottle nearest her out of its ice bath. "It's just Moose and Squirrelly. More champagne?"

Everyone offered his or her glass.

The End 

* * *

TITLE: Literary Bent  
AUTHOR: LeFey  
FANDOM: Once A Thief  
PAIRING: Victor/Mac   
RATING: PG13 Language and implied M/M romance  
DISCLAIMER: They belong to John Woo and Alliance/Atlantis.  
STATUS: Complete  
FEEDBACK PLEASE: [email removed]   
ARCHIVE: RatB, The Agency, and Calculated Risks http://denofsin.tv/-lefey  
SUMMARY: Vic and Mac are searching for just the right book at a small town Library book sale.  
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